Urban Gardner on the Trend of Couples Showering Together

Ralph Gardner Jr. Wants Proof of an Increase in Wet Twosomes

ENLARGE

A shower for two is a big draw of the penthouse suite at the Chatwal hotel in the theater district.
Steve Remich for The Wall Street Journal

By

Ralph Gardner Jr.

Feb. 5, 2014 9:51 p.m. ET

Joel Freyberg and I were standing in the $5,400-a-night penthouse suite of the Chatwal, a luxury hotel in the theater district that he manages. Penthouse, though, is rather a term of art at the 10-story Chatwal, which has less-than-spectacular views. Indeed, designed in 1905 by Stanford White, it used to be the Lambs Club.

But what the hotel may lack in vistas, it aspires to make up for in amenities—closets inspired by leather Vuitton-like travel trunks; Frette linens, duvets and pillows; and a "minibar curated by Geoffrey Zakarian," a star on the Food Network and chef of the Lambs Club restaurant.

I'd like to discuss the institution of the minibar, curated or not. I think of them as dangerous places; sinkholes for your bank account.

I consider myself well-bred by my parents and one of the first things they taught me, after not taking candy from strangers, is to stay the hell out of the minibar.

I very occasionally break that rule. But it's only under duress. Like if my flask was confiscated at the airport by the TSA and I'm in a war zone where it's too dicey to go hunting for a liquor store after dark.

ENLARGE

Its guests can lather up with Asprey products.
Steve Remich for The Wall Street Journal

Indeed, if I'm staying at a hotel for any duration I'll clean out the minibar—I don't typically stay at those futuristic hotels where sensors can tell if anything has been removed and it instantly hits your bill—and restock it with items I bought for rational prices at the local supermarket.

The point being: The Chatwal's minibar, no matter how lovingly curated by Mr. Zakarian, is of little significance to me.

What drew me to the Chatwal were both the Lambs Club connection and a claim that its bathrooms are catering to a new trend: couples showering together.

My father was a member of the Lambs, a club for actors and theatrical types, though he was neither.

Indeed, he joined the day I was born in 1953. And one of my more vivid memories of childhood is attending the kids' holiday party that the Lambs threw.

It included Santa, a club member who was a dwarf dressed as an elf, and gift bags full of swag, including mini boxes of Whitman's Sampler chocolates.

The annual event was held in the Lambs Theater on West 44th Street.

"The theater was in such bad repair we couldn't restore it," Mr. Freyberg told me sadly. However, he pointed out a majestic 18th-century French fireplace imported by Stanford White that was saved and serves as a focal point in the Lambs Club restaurant.

ENLARGE

The nightly rate for the luxurious space: $5,400 a night.
Steve Remich for The Wall Street Journal

Other details preserved include a memorial alcove with a list of Lambs members who perished in World Wars I and II. And the club's oak-paneled library, though it has been relocated and converted into a lounge.

As much as I appreciated the trip down memory lane, what I really wanted to talk about were the bathrooms and the two-person showering trend—if, indeed, it was an actual trend.

My hunch is that people who are inclined to shower together don't require a shower with twin oversize rain heads and controls for each, such as the one Mr. Freyberg was showing me. If the passion's there, a single water saver showerhead, or even a faucet and sponge, will suffice.

"Our showers are definitely large enough to accommodate two, three and four," the manager told me. "We thought it would be fun for Valentine's Day. Everyone has Champagne and flowers. We thought about taking it up a notch. We have Asprey amenities."

I don't deny showering with a friend can be fun. But what evidence does the hotel have that people are doing so, or doing so in greater numbers than they did, say, back in the '70s, which I like to think of as the golden age of couples showering?

"I get guest comments," Mr. Freyberg said.

Saying what? My partner and I spent so much time in the shower lathering each other with Asprey body wash we missed our matinee?

"People who were staying with us have gotten engaged at the Chatwal," the manager reported.

In the shower?

"They commented the showers were large enough for a party of four. For those who are romancing or rekindling a romance, it's a nice thing."

Perhaps I've reached an age where there are more important things than how many of us can fit into a shower.

What I've discovered is that while hotels do seem to be lavishing more attention than ever on their bathrooms—Mr. Freyberg said a minimum of a $100,000 was spent on each of the Chatwal's—you often can't abandon yourself to hedonism or lust because the shower doesn't drain fast enough to handle the rainfall effect.

Or the shower door isn't airtight and the shower floods the rest of the bathroom, causing you to spend time engaged in the decidedly unromantic endeavor of mopping up.

I was pleased to see that the Chatwal's shower had a high lip to prevent leakage. "I'm a former executive housekeeper," he explained. "We made sure all these little details were taken care of."

This copy is for your personal, non-commercial use only. Distribution and use of this material are governed by our Subscriber Agreement and by copyright law. For non-personal use or to order multiple copies, please contact Dow Jones Reprints at 1-800-843-0008 or visit www.djreprints.com.